


The Dean Winchester Chronicles

by Callisto_HK



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Love, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Worried Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-07-12 06:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7088614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callisto_HK/pseuds/Callisto_HK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of Dean-centric one-shots; with hurt/comfort, angst, brotherly love and everything! First chapter: That's My Name! / -When Dean doesn't return to their motel room one night, Sam freaks out; but he shouldn't, should he?-... "Why are you shouting, Sam?"..."Because I had no friggin clue where you were." Sam shouted again. "That's why." /Rated T for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dean Winchester Chronicles

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so, this is gonna be a collection of one-shots; all Dean-centric (in case the title of the story hasn't given it away) and obviously with lots of hurt/comfort and/or angst.
> 
> .
> 
> The story of this chapter happens sometime in Season 10; not because of the story-line of that season or the MoC (Which I already miss!); it's set in season 10 just because of the way the brothers were around each other; so it must be before they drifted apart again! Or well, it could be set in season 11! Yeah, that'd be even better! You'll know why when you read the story!
> 
> Hope you like it.

"'Lo?"

"DEAN?" Sam's loud voice made Dean flinch. "Oh, thank God, where are you?"

"Huh?"

"Dean?" Another shout of his name.

"What?" Dean gritted out. _Why did Sam have to be so loud?_ "Why are you shouting?"

"Why am I-... Dean? God, you're unbelievable."

Dean was silent; mainly because he didn't know what to say; he wasn't sure what he'd done to make Sam sound so... Umm, how did Sam sound? Worried? Relieved? Shocked? Angry? All of the above?

"Dean?"

"You're totally wearing it out."

"Huh?" It was Sam's turn to sound confused.

"My name." Dean cleared his throat and winced as it hurt and why the hell was it so dark there? "You're wearing me name out."

"Dean." Sam definitely sounded angry now.

"See; you did it again."

"Would you just-" Sam was clearly taking deep breathes to calm himself down. "Where are you, De-" He didn't finish the name. "Where are you? Do you have _any_ idea what kind of thoughts have been running through my head?"

"Why?"

"Because I had no frigging clue where the hell you were." Sam shouted again. "That's why."

"Why are you shouting?" Dean asked again; he was having a hard time following Sam.

This time Sam didn't talk. For a few seconds it was just silence on the other end of the line and Dean wondered if Sam had fallen asleep, because he himself was really tired and could do with some more sleep; why did Sam have to call and wake him up just to shout, anyway?

"Dean? You OK?"

"You woke me up." Dean stated instead of giving a response. "Why?"

"Can you tell me where you are?" Sam didn't sound angry anymore; he just sounded worried and ... And nice?

"Where am I supposed to be?" Dean asked. "Motel?" He tried to look around, but it was still too dark, "What time is it? It's too dark for you to be calling me."

"Dean, I shouldn't be calling you at all. We're practically together all the time. So why are you not here at the motel and why is your car still here?"

"Baby's there?" Dean sounded upset and then frowned. "Where's _there_?"

"River Bank Inn, where we got a room last night?" Sam helped, hoping Dean would finally get with the program.

"And if I'm not there, then where am I?"

Sam sounded weary when he sighed. "You hit your head?"

"Did I?"

OK, that sounded silly even to him and that was what finally woke Dean up completely. He realized that he didn't know where he was, and hadn't that been Sam's question all along? Maybe he could provide some answers; thinking that, he let go of the phone in his hand, and tried to get up from where he was leaning against a wall, but the moment he started to raise up, his head hit something hard. "Oww."

"Dean?" Sam's frantic voice reminded Dean that he was still on the phone with his brother; so he fumble for the discarded device and felt strangely delighted when he found it.

"Found it." He announced happily.

"Found what?" Sam asked, sounding confused and once again relieved.

"My phone."

"You'd lost it?"

"Hey, it's dark in here." Dean defended himself. "Wherever here is." He mumbled afterwards.

"Give me something, Dean. Anything." Sam urged, once again, sounding worried.

"It's really dark in here. Can't give you anything. You're not even here."

Another sigh.

"Oh, and ' _here'_ is really small."

"Small?" Was that hope Dean heard in Sam's voice?

"Hmm. Yeah. Tried to get up, hit my head on something."

"Dean."

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Abusing my name."

"God, Dean. Would you please focus?"

"I AM focusing." Dean protested. "On my name." He chuckled.

Man, he couldn't remember the last time he'd sounded and _felt_ so out of it; it made him laugh more.

"Dean, please. I need to find you. You probably have a concussion or something." The concern again. "Are you... Do you feel any pain?"

"Pain?" Dean asked and then thought about it. Oh, yeah, he totally could feel the pain. He chuckled as it registered.

"Where, Dean? What hurts?" Sam didn't even try to make Dean focus this time.

"Oh, that's a long list. A veeeery long list, Sammy." He chuckled again. "I think my right ear lobe doesn't hurt, though. Hmm, yeah, I'm positive that doesn't hurt."

"What about blood?"

"What about it?"

"Are you bleeding?"

"How would I know; I can't see-" Dean paused. "Hmm, guess my head feels kinda wet... Huh, must've hit it. Wow, Sammy, it's really wet." He chuckled again before stopping abruptly. "Sam. I think that's not good."

"No, Dean. It's not."

"Where am I?"

"I was hoping you could help me with that."

"But I don't know. It's dark in here and really small and I can't remember how I've ended up here. Here... Where's is _here_ , Sam?"

Sam was getting more and more worried; Dean didn't sound good at all; they both had had their fair share of concussions and rarely did Dean sound that bad; it could only mean that Dean didn't have much time.

"I'm gonna find you. Hang on, Dean."

"Oh."

"What?"

"I can see, now."

"What?"

"I found my flashlight." Dean grinned even though it hurt his face. "Oh, it really _is_ small in here."

"How small?"

"I'm crouched against a stone wall; I can't stand or stretch my legs; oh and there's a skull here with me." Dean sounded amused. "Say hello to Sam." He said and held the phone to the skull on the ground. When nothing happened he shrugged and took the phone away. "It's not in the mood to talk to you, Sammy. Sorry."

"I don't care, Dean. I just want _you_ to keep talking."

"I can do that." Dean said happily.

"Good. That's good, Dean." Sam encouraged. "I'm gonna try to triangulate your phone. I'm not gonna hang up, but give me a few minutes. In the meantime, you try to stay awake and see if you can find a way outta wherever you are. OK?"

"You triangulate; me way out. Yes."

Sam didn't respond to that; he got on the phone with the operator to ask for Dean's cellphone's location and Dean in the meantime grabbed his flashlight and tried to make a list of his injuries. He remembered that Sam had asked him to find a way out, but that wasn't important. There was no way out. He at least could find out why he hurt so badly. What he found out made him realize that his situation was kinda dire, but hey, what was the point of dwelling on it?

"Dean?"

Dean had put his phone down to hold the flashlight.

"Dean?"

Huh, his shirt was really really red. It fascinated Dean and he poked at it. It hurt.

"Dean!"

He frowned. Someone was shouting his name; looking at the phone, he grabbed it and let go of the flashlight. "Hello?" He needed to know who was on the line.

"Hel-" Sam stopped before he could start cussing and then talked again. "Hello? Hello, Dean? Really? Why didn't you answer?"

Dean was quiet.

"Dean? You still there?"

"No, I'm back at the motel with you."

"Well, at least you sound like yourself again."

"Who else am I supposed to sound like? I _am_ me. I can only sound like myself."

"And back to not." Sam sighed.

"Not what?"

"You not sounding like yourself."

"That's ridiculous, Sam. I can't not sound like me when I am me."

"Look, forget it."

"Forget what?"

Sam could curse again, but he also could weep; Dean was sounding really bad. "I'm coming, Dean. OK? I think I know where you are?"

"You think?"

"Well, I've got the coordinates; but it kinda seems like you're in the middle of nowhere."

"Cool."

"Cool?"

"I've always wanted to know what _'The Middle of Nowhere'_ was like. But I thought I'd never get to see it. Kinda like the Grand Canyon."

Sam bit his lip hard. "I'm coming, Dean. Just hang on."

"To what?"

"To..." Sam swallowed. "To my voice." He said quietly.

"OK." Dean accepted innocently.

"Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"Just checking."

"OK. Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are we?"

"You mean you?"

"No. No. What town? What part of the country?"

"Oh. Jacksonville." Sam answered.

"What for?"

"Two young men have disappeared. We thought it was a ghoul."

"But it's not?"

"Why would a ghoul snatch you and bury you in a hole in the middle of nowhere?"

"I'm not buried." Dean protested. "I've been buried before; I know the difference."

Sam winced as he remembered what his brother was referring to. Dean had been buried after he was killed by the Hellhounds and when he'd come back from hell, he'd been forced to dig his way out of his grave. Yes, no. He didn't want to go there. "Semantics." He muttered instead.

Dean didn't say anything else.

"Dean?"

"My name."

Sam sighed.

Those sighs were really getting on Dean's nerves. It was like Sam was frustrated and worried but didn't want to say anything. It drove Dean crazy.

"Dean."

Well, the sighs and the way he kept repeating his name. _Both_ were getting too annoying.

"Dean?"

"Sam." Maybe he could retaliate.

"Where were you?"

"It's too small in here, Sam. I told you. Can't go anywhere." He replied tiredly.

"Then answer when I call your name."

"OK. What?"

"What what?"

"You called my name."

A short silence and then Sam sighed again. "Hang on, Dean. I'll be there soon."

"OK."

"Dean, did you find anything else? A way out?"

"No."

"What do you mean no. You must've gotten in there somehow."

"Well, what do you want me to say? There's no way. No door, no window. No fucking thing. Leave me alone." He'd started to get irritated; maybe he should end the call and ignore it if Sam called again.

"Do you have enough air, Dean?" Sam asked suddenly.

"Huh." Dean stopped planning to cut the line. "Yes." He replied. "How do I have air, Sam?"

"How?" Sam asked, too. "Dean, there must be a way out if you've got air."

"Guess whatever has put me in here didn't want me to suffocate to death." Dean ignored him and chuckled. "I'm happy."

"You're happy?"

"I'm not gonna suffocate to death. Death by suffocation sucks, Sam." Dean pointed out and Sam cringed; yeah, he knew that. So Dean probably was right and was actually making sense this time.

"No way out, though."

"But-"

"Must be powerful." Dean observed.

"What?" Sam frowned worriedly.

"Whatever took me and buried here." Sam said it was semantics, so he supposed he could use the word ' _buried_ '. "A witch or something."

"Or a demon." Sam contributed.

"Or an angel."

Sam fell silent. Damn, their life sucked.

"Dean? Your eyes are not close, are they?"

"I don't know." Dean replied.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"It's dark in here."

"You need light to know if your eyes are open or not?"

Dean thought about it; Sam did have a point. "Hmm."

"Hmm what?"

"Sam, why do I still have air?"

"I don't know."

"Sam. Turn around."

"What?"

"Go back. I was left here to die."

"You're not dying, Dean. I told you I'm coming."

"No. Don't come here, Sam."

"Why the hell not?"

"That thing wants me to suffer and die."

"So?"

"You should go back."

"What the hell?" Sam growled. "You have a death wish now?"

"No." Dean coughed. "But I don't want you to die, too." He replied honestly. He was tired, and this was probably their last conversation, no one could blame him for admitting his feelings.

Sam's heart skipped a beat. "Dean. I'm coming."

"Sam. Dammit-"

"No, Dean." Sam yelled in the car, his voice echoing. "You can't ask me that. I'm coming and that's it. If that thing is still around, then I'll kill it and get you out. If it's not, then I'll get you out and we'll kill it together later. No third option." He took a deep breath. "So, hang on, OK?"

"OK."

"Besides, your baby will miss you too much."

"Oh. My baby." Dean sounded delighted again, before he growled. "If you hurt my baby I'll kill you. You better slow down."

"Well, if I don't get to you in time, _your baby_ will kill me." Sam was sure that wouldn't be the case, but he knew Dean would like to hear something like that; the relationship that he had with his car still baffled Sam.

Dean's happy voice and chuckle confirmed his theory. "Oh. My baby. Kiss it for me."

"What?" Sam shrieked. _That_ was new. "Eww."

Dean laughed and then moaned again.

"Dean?"

His name again.

"Can you tell me how bad you're hurt, Dean?" Sam sounded sober.

Well, Dean could, but since he knew the situation was pretty grave, he didn't want Sam to know. This was probably his last conversation with his brother; he didn't want to spend it talking about pain and injuries. Besides, what was the point of worrying Sam even more; it wasn't like he could do anything about it.

"Dean?"

He was sleepy again.

"Dean?"

God, he wished Sam would stop calling his name. What was with the sudden urge to abuse his name? He loved his name; Sam needed to stop ruining it.

"Dean!" There was a shout.

Huh, he sounded weird now. Dean tried to put a name to that voice; Sam had different faces, but he also had different voices; but Dean was too tired to decide which one it was this time.

"Goddammit, Dean. Answer me."

"My name and I hate you so much."

"What?" Sam sounded shocked before he realized what his brother was saying. "Well, then don't go silent when I call your name."

"Don't call my name."

"Answer me and I won't."

"What do you want?"

"Dean, I need to know you're awake."

"I'm tired."

"You can't sleep, Dean. Concussion, blood loss. I... Please."

"OK." He conceded.

"OK?"

"OK."

"I'll be there soon."

"OK."

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"OK."

"OK What? You don't even know what I'm sorry for."

"OK."

"Dean. Are you even awake?"

"Are you?"

"What?"

"You keep repeating my name. Like you're afraid you'd forget it. Maybe you're not awake."

"How's that related?" Sam shook his head. "God. Forget it."

"OK."

Damn; Sam had started to hate those two letters. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"You're not coming?" Dean suddenly sounded resigned and so young.

"What?" Sam frowned. _Where had that come from?_ "Of course I'm coming. Why would you say that?"

"You said you're sorry. Thought you didn't wanna come."

Sam would close his eyes if he wasn't driving so fast. Did Dean still think he might not come if he needed him? God, he sometimes hated anyone who'd entered Dean's life and screwed him over; including himself, of course. "I am coming, Dean. I promise I'll always come. I just need you to promise me to hang on."

"OK."

"And I'm sorry for snapping at you like that last night. I was just tired." Their argument hadn't been about anything special and they hadn't even said anything hurtful; Sam had just snapped at Dean for something stupid and Dean had preferred to leave the room and get some air, instead of staying and getting into a fight. It was clear that he'd been tired of fighting and Sam had been glad to be alone. He'd gone to bed and when he woke up the next morning, Dean was still gone.

"You snapped at me?" Dean couldn't remember it.

"Well, yes, and I'm sorry, but I didn't mean to and... We didn't fight, you just left and... If I haven't snapped, then you wouldn't have-"

"Shut up. Not your fault."

"You can't even remember it."

"Maybe. But I know you."

"Well-"

"Idiot." Dean chuckled.

"I'm almost there, Dean."

"Where?" By the sound of it, Dean had once again lost his focus.

"Where you are."

"Where am I?"

"A few more minutes." Sam said instead of giving an actual response.

"I'm at _'a few more minutes?_ '"

"Yeah." Sam didn't know what else to say; not like Dean was coherent enough to care.

"OK."

Soon, Sam stopped the car, checked the location and then cursed.

"Sam?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"You OK?"

"Uh. Yes. Just... Just I think I'm here."

"You think?" That part of conversation sounded familiar to Dean, but he couldn't be sure.

"Dean, if you're here, then we really are in the middle of nowhere."

Dean chuckled happily. "Take a picture for me?"

"God." Sam didn't listen. "I left the road a while back, but I thought I'd find something here. But there's nothing here, Dean. Nothing."

"Maybe the signal was disrupted?" Dean suggested and then mentally patted himself on the back for his great suggestion; because let's be honest, with the way he was slipping in and out of that state of confusion, any coherent word that left his mouth deserved a pat, let alone something that thoughtful.

Sam, in the meantime, slapped himself mentally for not thinking about it sooner. But then he stopped. No; that couldn't be true; he couldn't think it, because if it was the case, then he'd never find Dean. He'd, at most, be able to talk to Dean until the battery of Dean's phone died and then his brother would die alone in a dark, small hole without Sam ever being able to find him. That thought made him shudder. No. He couldn't think that way.

He rushed to the car and grabbed some stuff to start digging. _He'd dig thousands of holes in the whole area if he had to, but he'd find his brother. Alive._

"Dean."

"With my name again." Dean sighed.

Sam ignored it. "Dean, I'm gonna start digging. I won't be able to talk. But I need you to promise to stay awake and hang on. OK? I can't lose you, Dean."

"OK, Sammy. Be careful."

"I will."

With that, Sam started digging, but half an hour later there was still nothing. He'd dug 6 holes in the ground and they were all really deep, but there was no sign of Dean and he was losing his hope.

He grabbed his phone and called Dean's number again. "Dean?" He needed to hear Dean's voice.

When Dean didn't answer immediately, Sam got even more scared. He hadn't talked to him for 30 minutes and what if Dean was dying? What if accepting the incoming call had been all he could do at that moment? "Dean!" He shouted.

"God! Stop." Dean almost whined.

"I thought-"

"Still here."

"OK."

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You still digging?"

"I am, Dean. I will find you soon. Don't give up." Sam said urgently, sounding like he'd panic.

"Hey. Not giving up." Dean winced and touched his blood soaked-torso and ruefully thought that he still might not last long. "Look for a stony ground."

"What?"

"Wherever I am, there's not much soil around me, Sam. It's mostly stony and pretty sure I can feel roots of a tree."

"Roots. Tree. Stone." Sam frantically looked around and found a line of trees on his left and a single tree on his right. He didn't know where to start, but the single tree was closer to the coordinates that he'd got and the ground looked firmer; he deiced to start there.

"OK, Dean. Got it. Will be there, soon."

"Bring pizza."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah. OK. Just hang on."

When some minutes later Sam's shovel hit the stone, he didn't know to cry out with anger or joy. He decided to just cry out without labeling it.

"Sam?"

Dean's voice came from the speaker of the phone that was on the ground on the edge of the hole Sam had dug.

"Yes. I'm here, Dean."

"You shouted."

"I... Yes. I hit stone."

"I heard you."

"I know. I just-"

"No. I heard you through the stone. Not phone."

"Oh." Sam forgot his sore muscles as his heart jumped with joy; Dean was there. He'd found him. He was so close, but... But how was he supposed to break through the stone without hurting Dean?

"Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"You... You need to get away from the stone above your head as much as you can. I need to make sure I won't hurt you when I start using my pickax."

Dean huffed. He really didn't have much space but he obliged as best as he could. "OK."

Five minutes later, when the tool's sharp point went through the stone and hit a hole, Sam dropped it and grabbed his flashlight to shove light inside the hole. What he saw made his breath hitch in his throat. There, before him, was his brother, cramped in a hole and covered in blood. One of his hands was on his lower torso which seemed to be bleeding and one of them was clenched around the cellphone on his lap. And then there was his head. God, no wonder half of what he said made no sense; his head looked really bad, especially the gash on the side of his forehead which seemed to be still oozing blood. Damn. What the hell? What kinda of creature had done this and with what purpose?

With a new-found energy, Sam got back to work and once the hole was big enough for a man to pass through, he put his tools aside and focused on his brother.

"Dean?"

The older man didn't react at all. His focus seemed to be on the phone in his hand and apparently he hadn't noticed that Sam was actually there now.

"Hey, Dean... Dean! I'm here. Look at me!"

Still nothing.

"Come on, Dean. Let's get outta here... Dean?"

"That's my name." Dean said without looking up and Sam figured that every second counted, so instead of trying to get Dean's attention, he grabbed Dean's lax arm and pulled him up.

The shout that left Dean's mouth and was stifled a couple of seconds later tore a hole in Sam's heart. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He kept saying those words, but didn't stop moving until Dean was up on the flat ground. He glanced back at the hole that had held his brother for so many hours and felt dizzy. No wonder Dean was in so much pain; even if he didn't have any broken bones, being cramped in such a small hole for so many hours must've been extremely painful.

"Dean?" He gently slapped his brother's face, hoping to receive some sort of response.

"Hey, Dean. You with me? It's over."

Still nothing.

"Come on, Dean."

Dean was breathing hard and didn't even acknowledge Sam's words.

"Dean."

Silence.

"Dean, I'm here, you know that, right?"

"Stop. With. My name." Dean rasped out before finally losing consciousness. Sam didn't know how Dean had lasted that long; it wasn't hard to say he had a really severe concussion and he clearly had lost a good amount of blood. The fact that he'd finally lost consciousness could mean that Dean's mind had registered that Sam was finally there which was good; but it also could mean that the pain that Sam had caused him when he'd pulled him out of that hole had become too much and had rendered him unconscious. Either way, he couldn't waste any more time. He needed to get his brother to the hospital. They hadn't come this far to lose the battle now.

.

...

"Dean?"

Dean frowned.

"Dean, come on."

_That was Sam. Wasn't it?_

"Dean-..."

Sam was saying something, but all Dean heard was his name.

"Hey, Dean. You with me?"

OK, more words. But seriously, Sam needed to stop repeating his name. Wasn't he tired of it? All he could remember at that moment was that Sam had been saying his name over and over and _over_ again in the last God-knew-how-long.

"Come on, Dean, you gotta stay awake."

A hand on his shoulder made him turn his eyes from the white ceiling to Sam's worried face. Worried? What was with that face?

"Dean."

"Dammit. Stop." Dean growled. Or he thought he did, because apparently what left his mouth had made no sense whatsoever, as Sam frowned and leaned closer.

"What? Dean, what did you say?"

"Stop."

"Stop what?" Sam sounded confused. "Oh, wait. I'll get you some ice chips."

Not waiting for any reaction, Sam left and Dean was kinda thankful for it, because that meant Sam wouldn't call his name again. That didn't last long, though. Soon, Sam was back with a cute brunette and Dean wondered if Sam had brought him a gift.

"Is she for me?" He eyed the nurse happily. "I like her. Thanks, Sammy." He had taken some ice chips and could talk better, but to the others, he still wasn't making any sense.

The nurse chuckled as Sam's face turned red. "It's the concussion. It's alright."

"I like you." Dean chuckled happily.

"I like you, too, Dean." The nurse smiled as she checked his vitals.

"Oh. I like that." Dean smiled. "You can say my name as much as you want. But make him stop."

"Make who stop?"

"Sam."

"Me?" Sam frowned. "What have I done?"

Dean ignored Sam and stared at the blue eyes of the nurse. Those eyes reminded him of the ocean; which was ridiculous since he hadn't spent much time near the ocean. "He keeps repeating my name. He's totally worn it out now."

This time the nurse laughed out loud. "Well, maybe he likes your name. Dean." She put an emphasis on the name.

"Well, his voice is not like yours. You say it nicely."

"Gee, thanks." Sam muttered.

The nurse looked at Sam kindly. "I'll let the doctor know he's awake."

"He seems still out of it." Sam looked at his brother who was smiling happily at the nurse, but seemed to be somewhere else. "I mean, you didn't hear him on the phone when I was trying to find him."

"Hey, don't worry. The doctor told you, it's the concussion. It'll go away soon and besides, he does make sense."

"What?" Sam sounded offended. "So, I don't sound nice?"

The nurse laughed but before she could say what she meant, Dean jumped in. "Yes, Sam. I do make sense. She's cute. And I like it when she calls my name."

"OK. Dean." The nurse smiled. "I'll be back shortly. Be nice to your brother. He was really worried."

"Yeah." Dean sighed somberly. "He has this voice when he gets worried. I don't know whether I want to hit him or hug him."

This time Sam smiled broadly. "You want to hug me?" He looked at the nurse. "He never wants to hug anyone. Not manly, you know?"

Sam sounded so happy that the nurse, Ashley, wanted to grab a seat and stay in that room forever. Those two boys were so funny. She had to leave, though; sadly, she had other patients who needed her attention. "Well, then enjoy it before he gets back to his stoic self, I guess." She laughed and left the room.

"You totally do." Sam sank into the chair beside Dean's bed. "You admitted; you want to hug me, Dean."

"I just wanna shoot you. Stop with my name."

Sam laughed, taking no offense.

"Where did my gift go?"

"Your gift?"

"You brought her for me."

"I..." Sam chuckled. "Dean. She was a nurse."

"A nurse? You brought me a nurse? Cool."

"Well, she works here and while you're a patient, she'll be yours, I guess. Not exclusively, of course; there are other patients here."

"I'm a patient?"

"Man, you're totally concussed."

" _You_ are totally concussed." Dean shot back, but then frowned. "Wait! That wasn't a swear word, was it?"

"No, Dean. You're actually concussed." Sam shook his head, grinning a little bit.

"Huh. Why?"

"You don't remember a thing, do you?"

"I remember you kept saying my name. My name still hates you."

"You remember the hole?"

"Oh. The small and dark one?"

"You've been in any other hole?"

Dean shrugged and then winced, looking down at his immobilized shoulder.

"Yeah, don't do that." Sam winced in sympathy. "You've got a broken rib; a broken humerus-" That had been the place where Sam had grabbed Dean to haul him out of the hole, but of course, he didn't mentioned it. "Broken knuckles on your right hand; dislocated shoulder; a stab wound to the lower abdomen which really seemed to have been caused by an angel blade; blood loss and a very serious concussion. Oh and lots and lots of bruises and contusions of course."

"Wow." Dean actually looked more impressed than depressed by the long list.

"Yeah. You could say that."

"An angel blade?"

"Seemed so. I tried calling Cas, but haven't been able to reach him so far. Guess we gotta wait a while longer before finding out what douchbag has done this to you."

"Good for me." Dean wrinkled his nose. "What about my friend?"

"Your friend?"

"Yeah, the one I've found in my hole. I know it didn't want to talk to you, but you can't take it personally. Tell me you got it out."

"Dean? Are you... Are you talking about that skull?"

"Hey, don't say it like it's a bad thing. It's not its fault it was a skull."

Sam rolled his eyes. He was amused, but he couldn't wait for Dean to sound normal again.

"Sam?"

"I got it out, Dean. It's safe." It was a lie of course, but what else was he supposed to say to a heavily concussed Dean? That he'd go back and take it out of the hole? No thanks.

"Oh. OK." Dean smiled. "For that you get to say my name one more time."

"WOW, thank you, Your Majesty." Sam laughed.

"No; Dean."

"What?"

"Not Your Majesty; just Dean. I'll let you call me Dean one more time."

"I'll call you Dean forever. That's your name." Sam shook his head fondly.

"My name and I hate you." Dean growled with annoyance.

"Yeah, you've mentioned that a couple of times."

"Well, it's true."

"Whatever. Dean."

"Seriously, what's with your sudden fascination with my name?"

Rolling his eyes, Sam groaned. "What fascination? Dean, it's your name. I gotta call you something."

"You can talk without using my name in every single sentence and then more." Dean argued.

"What if I just wanna call you? I have to use it. Give it up, man."

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Sam!"

"Yes?"

"Sam?"

"Dean? What? What's wrong?"

"Sam!"

Sam frowned and then suddenly he knew it. "Seriously?"

"Yes, Sam."

"Fine. Dean."

"Sam."

"Dean."

"Sam."

"God; enough!"

"I win. Now, you see why it's annoying."

"Go back to sleep, Dean."

"Don't say it."

"Fine. Go back to sleep, _jerk_."

"Bitch." Dean replied automatically and was instantly out after that.

Sam felt a strange wave of happiness and nostalgia at Dean's last word. Sighing, he wondered how his brother had even held such a long conversation; admittedly it hadn't been a coherent one, but still.

He couldn't help laughing, though; whatever was happening now, however Dean sounded and whatever had caused it didn't really matter. What mattered was that Dean was there to sound so out of it. And he was safe and out of that hole; the last time Dean had sounded so bad, Sam hadn't been sure if he'd ever see him again and he'd been sure that his brother was hurt more than he was letting on and turned out he'd been right. So, who cared if now the older man flirted with nurses mercilessly; missed his 'skull friend' and got annoyed just for being called by his own name. He was alive and safe. Besides, watching him like that was fun.

.

**... FIN ...**


End file.
